Hickman’s East of West is fucking rad, dude. As a comic book. Now, it’s going to have the opportunity to be fucking rad, dude, as a TV series! Oh, and another of his jams Transhuman is getting that adaptation treatment too.

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MondayMondayMonday Morning Commute! It’s the column!

It’s my one-year anniversary today, yo. The Wife and I. Dang hitched. I don’t feel much regarding it, though. Spoke about it with the better half, and we’re both like, you know. Shrug emoji. The date that sticks out to the both of us is our initial date. Feels more genuine than the $20,000+ back-patting we threw for…our parents a year ago.

I mean, don’t get me wrong.

It was a great night.

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This is Monday Morning Commute.

Went to a wedding tonight. That’s why I’m tardy. Went to a wedding tonight, witnessed matrimony and bullshit. Circumstance and overwrought sentiment. Reflected on the fact that my wife was a good call, the best call, definitely the right call to partner up with in this Life. ‘Til dirt, folks. ‘Til dirt. Probably going to ride this Space-Ship ’til dirt, too. I’ll hope you’ll board her with me. Hang out in the common hall. Sleep, and shit, and sing, and screw, and scream in your cabin. Pass time, pass gas, pass (favorable) judgment on one another.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

Join me, friends. In this metaphorical common hall, on the Internet, a metaphor, within our shared existed in the RealiVerse, also a metaphor. Join me, friends. Tell me what you’re looking forward to this week. Share what you’re going to be doing this week. Declare what your intentions are for the next five-day (four, really, after today) rock-rolling.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

Let’s hang out.

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I can’t be the only one looking at the poster for True Detective season two and thinking it sounds a lot of something that could come out of Jonathan Hickman’s mouth, can I? Like, some straight-up East of West shit. And you know. Given how much the Mind behind True Detective likes *cough* borrowing things and all.

Hit the jump to check it out.

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Hey fuckers! This is Weekend Open Bar. The 48-hour+ column where anything goes! Your one-stop chance to spout off about how The Illuminati is throwing games of Titanfall, comment on a show you’re marathoning this weekend, or post pictures of your genitals.

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Hello, friends! Be you long-time wards of the Spaceship, or recent innocent bystanders gobbled up by last weekend’s Fan Expo in Toronto. This column right here is Monday Morning Commute, a weekly installment where we blather about the various things we’re indulging in during a given week. A list of the ointments we shall be applying to the burn of Existence. Too overwrought? Too grandiose? Post a fucking list of the shit you are getting down with over the course of the next seven days.

Ah, better.

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